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CLOVER BLOOM 



By ADELLA LOVEJOY CURRIER 



1914 

THE WOODRUFF PRESS 

Lincoln, Nebraska 



T5 3^«^^^ 



Entered according to the act of Congress in the office of the 

Librarian of Congress, A. D. 1914, 

by Adella L. Currier, 

St. Edward, Nebraska 



AUG 24' 1914 



Price $1.00, Postpaid 

THE WOODRUFF PRESS, 

Lincoln, Nebraska 

©CLA87J)212 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Prairie Song 9 

Little Boy-Blue 10 

Good Morning 11 

Good Night 11 

Rare Moments 12 

Heart to Heart 13 

Child's Prayer 13 

Home-Keeping Hearts 14 

First Snowstorm 15 

Lullaby 16 

Dawn . 17 

Under the Lilacs 18 

Charm 19 

Mother's Work 20 

Be Patient 22 

Spirit of the Pioneers 23 

Sunny Weather 26 

June's Treasures 28 

July 29 

To-day and To-Morrow 30 

No Room for Christ 32 

Recompense 33 

Lure of the West 34 

Thanksgiving Day 36 

Youth 38 

Flowers of Friendship 39 

In the Twilight 40 

Girl Who Works 41 

Lines 42 

Southern Rose 43 

Consistency 43 

Her Little Hand 44 

Only a Kiss 44 

Margarita 45 

For Christ and the Church 46 

Primrose Path 48 

The Empty Nest 49 

Minor Strain 50 



TABLE OF CONTENTS— Continued 

PAGE 

Boys and Girls of Yesterday 51 

Dreams 54 

Star Bethlehem 55 

Patience 55 

A Song 56 

Rose Beads 56 

Friendship 57 

Roses 57 

Seed Time 58 

Early Frost 58 

Journeying 59 

Two Little Dresses 59 

Prairie Road 60 

Life 60 

Clover Bloom 61 

Forbid Them Not 62 

Adella 62 

Prayer 63 

Autumn Baby 64 

When Nebraska Women Vote 65 

Little Things 66 

Joy 67 

Mother 68 

At the Gate 69 

White Ribbon Bow 70 

Highest Praise 70 

Wild Flowers 71 

Indian Summer 72 

-Smiles 73 

One Perfect Day 74 



To my Mother, my Daughter, 

and 

my Little Granddaughter 



CLOVER BLOOM 



PRAIRIE SONG 

My prairie home is rude and bare, 

Simple my garb and plain my fare; 

Daily I toil from morn till eve 

With singing lips. Why should I grieve? 

No crowned queen can richer be, 
For Love abides with me. 



If all the wealth the cities hold, 

Of glittering gems and gleaming gold, 

Of stately halls and mansions fine — 

If this, and more than this, were mine, 

No beggar maid so poor as I, 
If Love had passed me by! 



Clover Hill, 1884. 



10 CLOVER BLOOM 

OUR LITTLE BOY-BLUE 

Oh, what shall I do? Our little Boy-Blue 

Is lost, and I cannot find him! 
In the gathering gloom I've searched each room. 

But he left no trace behind him. 
I look through the hall and down in the stall 

Where Daisy is calmly feeding; 
The doves overhead are going to bed 

And the sun to the hills is speeding. 



In the orchard I look in each sheltered nook, 

Where birdlings 'neath wings are creeping; 
But never a sign of that wee boy of mine 

Who in my arms should be sleeping. 
His dear little feet are all bare and sweet. 

I fear the night wind will harm him; 
His dark curls hid 'neath a sun-bonnet lid, 

With no little coat to warm him. 



1 run up the ridge and look down to the bridge — 

0, dark is the canyon yonder! 
"Rove, Rove, come here; help me find my dear!" — 

Is Rover gone, too, I wonder? 
In his kennel I peep, my heart gives a leap. 

And now I am softly weeping; 
There with head close pressed on Rove's shaggy breast. 

Lies little Boy-Blue a-sleeping! 



CLOVER BLOOM 11 

GOOD MORNING 

The sun peeps in and seems to say, 

"Good morning! How are you?" 
Blue morning-glory offers him a 

cup of morning dew. 
A lark sings joyously above a field 

of clover-bloom, 
And every friendly little breeze brings 

whiffs of rare perfume. 
The saucy bees are all a-field, the 

butterflies arrive — 
birds, and bees and butterflies, 

it's good to be alive! 



GOOD NIGHT 

"Now I Lay Me" is softly said, 
And wee Silklocks is snug in bed. 
When bending for my good-night kiss 
I hear the dear voice whisper this; 
"I love you Mama, I love you so! 
You're the bestest one there is, I know." 
"God keep thee, dear, 'till morning light;" 
I breathe this prayer with fond good-night. 



12 CLOVER BLOOM 

All the cares which vexed the day, 

Like dark-winged birds have flown away, 

And in their place a snow-white dove 

Sings in my heart these words of love. 

The world has plaudits to bestow, 

But they are not for me, I know. 

A sweeter praise is mine by right 

Of motherhood. Dear heart, good-night. 



RARE MOMENTS 

"Another boy?" I said and sighed, 
"Not so! A girl!" the nurse replied. 
And in my arms, 0, joy complete! 
She laid my little daughter, sweet. 
"Sweet as a pink," the father said. 
And gently stroked the dusky head. 
Lightly he touched with finger tip 
The satin cheek and rosy lip; 
Then bending down, true-lover wise. 
The love light shiny in his eyes, 
I feel his tender, loving kiss — 
Life holds no joy like unto this! 



CLOVER BLOOM 13 

HEART TO HEART 

We're walking on together 

Beneath a sunht sky; 
Should sable storm-clouds hover, 

We'll clouds and storms defy. 
E'en sorrow hath a sweetness, 

Pain loses half its smart, 
Since life holds this completeness 

Of walking heart to heart. 

So heart to heart forever, 

Though miles may stretch between. 
Space has no power to sever 

The ties that intervene. 
I have no joy nor gladness 

Of which you're not a part; 
Life holds no secret sadness. 

For we are heart to heart. 



A CHILD'S PRAYER 

"We thank Thee, Father, for this food, 
For home and tender care, 
0, help us always to be good!" 
This is our daily prayer. 



14 CLOVER BLOOM 

HOME-KEEPING HEARTS 

I hear them tell of lands afar, 

Where lofty snow-capped mountains are; 

Where streams descend in clouds of foam, 

To seek their far-off ocean home. 

They tell of ruins, ivy-grown. 

Of wondrous figures carved in stone. 

Of castles grand and paintings rare, 

And jewels rich beyond compare. 

My heart stands still — 0, can it be 

I, too, may cross the balmy sea? 

But tender eyes look into mine — 
I hear a voice forever dear; 

Though others roam the world at will. 

It calls, and claims, and keeps me here. 

I read of women brave and grand 

Who nobly labor through the land. 

Who cheer the aged, save the youth. 

And wield their pens for right and truth. 

My breath comes fast — 0, that I, too, 

Might help the blessed work to do! 

But clasping mine are fingers small, — 

'Tis not for me the Spirits call. 

I cannot teach, I cannot write. 

For who would keep the hearth-stone bright? 

I clasp a hand that's firm and true 
And then I know that I am blest. 

I kiss each little face, and say, 

"Home-keeping hearts are happiest." 



CLOVER BLOOM 15 

THE FIRST SNOWSTORM 

Baby May, baby, see 

What is floating through the air. 
Down from angels' wings, maybe. 

Floating, floating everywhere. 
Raise the sash a little — so; 

Catch one in your tiny hand. 
It is gone — where did it go? 

Baby does not understand. 

" It is snowing ! ' ' Little Hal 

Comes in breathless from his play: 
"Mother, may I get my sled? 

Guess its going to snow all day." 
Baby May, fair little May, 

Never saw the snowflakes fly. 
She is Summer's child, and they 

Are not purer where they lie. 

Little May, my baby dear, 

Storms will come if life proves long; 
Would that mother might be near. 

Shielding you in arms so strong. 
Please God, you may ever be 

Pure as you are now to-day, 
When you life's first snowstorm see. 

Baby May, dear baby May. 



16 CLOVER BLOOM 



LULLABY 



The baby birds are in the nest, 
Under the mother's wings; 
She folds them close to her downy breast 
And croons and softly sings: 
"Peep, peep, go to sleep, 
Mother will watch and sing 
Through the dark night. 
Until the warm light. 

So hide your head under your wing." 

My baby birds are in the nest. 
On pillows soft and white; 
Gray eyes and brown eyes go to rest, 
Wee birdies sleep at night. 
"Peep, peep, go to sleep. 
Mother will watch and sing 
Through the dark night. 
Until the warm light. 

So hide your head under your wing." 

The baby birds have left their home, 

Out in the apple tree, 
And here and there the wee things roam. 
The wide, wide world to see. 
"Peep, peep, go to sleep. 
Mother will watch and sing 
Through the dark night. 
Until the warm light. 

So hide your head under your wing." 



CLOVER BLOOM 17 

My baby birds, I hold them now, 

Close to my warm heart pressed. 
And softly kiss each cheek and brow, — 
They, too, may leave the nest. 
"Peep, peep, gone to sleep; 
God watch my dear ones' rest! 
Gray eyes and brown, 
The lids fold down, 

My dear little birds in the nest." 



DAWN 

Demure little maiden, 

So earnest and wise. 
With a smile on your lips 

And a dream in your eyes; 
The daisy-starred lane 

You have traveled thus far 
Leads into a garden 

Where rose garlands are. 
With a lily in hand 

As a light to your feet, 
May the roses you gather 

Be thornless and sweet. 
0, guide her and keep her, 

Dear Father, all-wise. 
With the smile on her lips 

And the dream in her eyes. 



^ 



18 CLOVER BLOOM 

UNDER THE LILACS 

I sit in the early gloaming, still 

rosy with sunset glow, 
And dream of the home in the maples, 

where lilacs are all a-blow. 
There with my sisters I lingered on 

balmy evenings, until 
Hard by in the darkening woodland 

we heard the whip-poor-will. 
And while the pale moon fondled 

the little lake serene 
With lilacs royal purple we crowned 

our mother queen. 

Under the lilacs, the lilacs. 

Though far in a distant state, 
I still fondly dream of the lilacs 

That grew by the old front gate. 

And do I regret it ever, that to become 

your wife 
I left the home in the maples? — 

Your love has crowned my life. 
The cottage gray on the hill-top is 

"Home, Sweet Home," to me, 
And I love the boundless prairie 

as a sailor loves the sea. 
Yet, oft in the stilly twilight, when our 

babes are fast asleep, 
I dream of the home in the maples, 

where lilacs their vigil keep. 



CLOVER BLOOM 19 

Under the lilacs, the lilacs, 

Our loved ones watch and wait 
To greet us with kindly welcome 

within the old front gate. 



CHARM 

It is not your rare beauty, love, 

So like a perfect flower, 
Nor yet your youthful grace, 

(Although it is a priceless dower). 
Nor qualities of mind and heart. 

So much to be desired; 
Not one, nor all these virtues, love, 

Make you so much admired. 
As well to try with brush to paint 

The perfume of a rose 
As tell in words your nameless charm, 

"What every woman knows." 



20 CLOVER BLOOM 

MOTHER'S WORK 

Up in the early morning, 

Just at the dawn of day, 
Skimming the milk in the cellar, 

Setting fresh pans away. 
Laying the table for breakfast, 

Broiling the steak o'er the coals. 
Golden and fragrant the coffee, 

Tender the freshly baked rolls. 



Washing the dishes and churning. 

Sweeping and making-up beds, 
Donning of clean little aprons, 

Brushing the wee curly heads; 
Dressing a dolly for Madie, 

Mending Bee's broken wheel. 
Cleaning, and mixing, and baking, 

Preparing the noonday meal. 



Washing the dishes and sweeping. 

Dusting the parlor chairs. 
Shaking the rugs and the curtains. 

Doing the work upstairs; 
Sewing, and mending, and knitting, 

No moment may idle be. 
Molding some creamy light biscuit 

And laying the cloth for tea. 



CLOVER BLOOM 21 

Weary, so weary, but happy, 

Thankful, and glad, and content, 
Knowing that heaven's rich blessings 

Have into her life been sent; 
Praying for strength to labor, 

For wisdom to guide aright, 
She kisses each dear little sleeper. 

And murmurs a fond "Good night." 



Washing again the dishes. 

Setting the room aright. 
Rocking the baby and robing 

Each dear little form for the night; 
Hearing each whispered "I lay me," 

Echoing softly "Amen," 
Wishing, perchance, for one moment 

That she was a child again. 



22 CLOVER BLOOM 

BE PATIENT 

Be patient with the little ones, 

They have not long to stay; 
The rosy hours of childhood's days 

Pass all too soon away. 

Deal wisely with their "whats" and "whys"; 

There's much they long to know. 
How can you hope for flowers of Truth, 

If Falsehood's seeds you sow? 

Bear patiently the ringing shout 

And bounding boyish tread. 
The noisy clatter in the hall. 

The conflict overhead. 

A day is slowly drawing near 

When you will sit alone, 
And long to hear the merry laugh 

Of little children grown. 

You'll long to kiss away each tear, 

To hush each childish sob, 
And open doors for little hands 

Which cannot reach the knob. 

Then clasp them close in loving arms, 

Your little ones to-day; 
To-morrow's sun will shine bedimmed 

If they are far away. 



CLOVER BLOOM 23 

SPIRIT OF THE PIONEERS 

'Twas just about corn plantin' time, ten 

years ago last spring, 
Old Baldface fell and broke her leg — she 

was a clumsy thing — 
But strong and true for all o'that, she'd 

pull right with the best; 
She was my father's gift to me before 

I came out west. 

Now so's to buy another horse and build 

a pasture fence, 
(I'd bargained for a harvester and 

been to some expense), 
I had to have a little cash, and, not 

thinking any harm. 
To give security I put a mortgage 

on the farm. 

The new colt, she was skittish-like, a 

big, high-stepping roan, 
She ran away with little Joe and broke 

his collar-bone. 
She smashed the waggin' all to flints, 

the harness strung apart; 
I tell you I felt pretty blue, but Mother, 

bless her heart! 

She said we ought to thank the Lord the 

boy wan't killed outright. 
However dark the time might be, she'd 

find a streak o'light, 



24 CLOVER BLOOM 

But doctor's bills and fixin' up and 

hirin' of a hand 
All cost so much I couldn't raise 

the mortgage from the land. 

"0, never mind," sez Mary Jane, "next year 

will do as well." 
We didn't raise mor'n half a crop, and 

what we had to sell 
We almost had to give away; grain 

was so pesky low 
We couldn't keep the interest up, 

and it began to grow. 

I'm sure we all worked hard enough 

all through the summer's heat; 
The interest worked hand-over-hand, 

a thing we couldn't beat; 
It kept right on through hail and drouth, 

and when a blizzard came 
It took the best chair in the house 

and made itself to home. 
It set right down among us there, and 

with a fiendish grin 
It opened up its awful mouth and bid 

us shove things in! 

We giv' it our potatoes and our corn, 

and oats, and wool; 
It gobbled down the sheep themselves, 

and still it wasn't full; 



CLOVER BLOOM 25 

It took the porker from the pen, the 

butter from our bread, 
And every race I run with it the Thing 

come out ahead. 

Sez I at last to Mary Jane, one scalding 

August day, 
"We'll have to let the old farm go; 

there ain't no other way. 
We're growin' old an' gettin' gray 

long years before our time; 
I say, let's turn that mortgage out, 

if we don't save a dime! 
We'll have to have an auction-sale 

and sell off everythin' ; 
Then look the world square in the face 

and we'll commence agin." 

We've rented a small piece of ground 

with bildin's pretty cheap; 
They're only sod, but but even sod beats none 

at all a heap. 
I'm goin' to work out by the day for 

them as wants a hand. 
And soon we hope to save enough 

to buy a little land. 

We're takin' sugar in our tea, (we 

didn't for a spell) ; 
We're goin' to have a Sunday pie and 

make a little jell. 
So Mother sez, and bless her heart, 

before the snowflakes fly 



26 CLOVER BLOOM 

She'll have a new print dress 

or I will know the reason why! 

I've health and strength, thank 

God for that ! and courage, dear old wife, 

You'll ride in your own kerridge yet, 
I swear it on my life. 

TWENTY YEARS LATER 

Come Mother, put your bunnit on, and 

tie it on to stay. 
Jest take along a little wrap, for 

all its warm to-day. 
Now Joseph, you may crank her up; 

I'll take the wheel. Gee- whiz! 
This's goin' some! I never thought to 

drive a rig like this. 
You want to take the little one? 

Climb in with Grandma, Lee. 
So long. Tell Mattie we'll be home 

in time for early tea. 



SUNNY WEATHER 

When you and I were young, my dear, 

And sunny was the weather, 
You and I, with friends close-by. 

Walked in the sun together. 
The buds and bees were on the trees, 

And birds sang gaily ever 
When you and I were young, my dear, 

And sunny was the weather. 



CLOVER BLOOM 27 

When you and I were young, my dear, 

And it was cloudy weather, 
Beneath a shade to guard from rain 

We homeward walked together. 
Few friends to meet and few to greet. 

And none our ways to sever; 
One blissful day, when skies were gray, 

We pledged our faith forever. 

When you and I are old, my dear, 

If sunny be the weather. 
You and I, with friends close by. 

Will gaily chat together. 
But clouds may rise in sunlit skies, 

And rain and clouds together 
Will drive away friends of a day. 

Despite our best endeavor. 

When you and I are old, my dear, 

If cloudy be the weather. 
You and I will bid good-bye 

To fickle friends forever. 
Our hearthstone bright a cheerful light 

Will shed around us ever; 
Life's always sweet where fond hearts meet. 

And sunny is the weather. 



28 CLOVER BLOOM 

JUNE'S TREASURES 

There are roses in my garden, 
Yellow as ripe ears of corn. 

Roses white and roses crimson, 
Roses pink as blushing morn. 

Roses for the sick and weary, 
Roses for the bride to wear, 

Roses for the baby's fingers. 

And in Grandma's silver hair. 

How their perfume fills the parlor, 

Haunts the kitchen, mounts the stair, 

Greets us in the hall and door-ways, 
Roses, roses, everywhere! 

Roses in the old blue teapot. 

In the fragile china urn, 
Roses in the cut-glass pitcher, 

Roses in the old stone churn. 

Let us revel in their sweetness 

For they'll leave us all too soon; 

Other months may bring fair blossoms, — 
Summer holds a single June. 



CLOVER BLOOM 29 

JULY 

Fair summer queen, we welcome thee! 

Thy flowery ways of mirth and song, 
Thy fields of ripening wheat we see. 

Bathed deep in sunshine all day long. 
Thou holdest in thy sweet warm clasp 

A gem most dear among the free; 
Our Country's natal day thou hast. 

And this is why we cherish thee. 

We waken to the cannon's roar. 

And rattling musketry at dawn; 
The busy housewife care gives o'er. 

The farmer leaves his growing corn; 
All, all rejoice. Ring out the bells, 

And proudly let the old flag fly! 
A tale of loyal love it tells; 

For thee our fathers dared to die. 

The stars and stripes — red, white, and blue — 

Our children wave them in the sun; 
They learn to love the brave and true. 

And bless the name of Washington. 
July, queen month of summer time. 

Of all thy jewels, fair to see. 
We claim our own, the Fourth in line. 

And thirty still remain with thee. 



30 CLOVER BLOOM 

TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW 

The day is o'er, and the sun once more 

Sinks all aflame to rest; 
"Six", strikes the clock, as I gently rock 

The baby upon my breast. 
All is so fair and free from care 

Our little home within; 
What care I if the world close by 

Is filled with sorrow and sin? 

My Love is strong to resist all wrong, 

And safe in our home I wait 
With our babe asleep, as the minutes creep, 

For his footfall at the gate. 
Just over the way fair children play 

With shouts of merry glee, 
Till up the street with stumbling feet 

Comes one I shrink to see. 

All bloated and blear, a thing to fear — 

The children shrink aside, — 
A drunken sot, the one dark blot 

On the beautiful eventide. 
As he reels along with jeer and song 

I muse on the curse of wine; 
When, all unsought, there comes this thought, 

Once he was a babe like mine! 



CLOVER BLOOM 31 

Once he was pressed to a mother's breast, 

And she was happy and gay, 
As she gave him a kiss and a fond caress — 

But what is her boy to-day! 
0, rather would I my child should die, 

My dearly loved boy to-night. 
Than live to become a slave to rum 

And a foe to the truth and right. 



There's a work for you and me to do; 

God help me to do my part 
With voice and pen for my brother-men, 

And the baby upon my heart. 
Ah, who shall say he is safe to-day? 

To-morrow is just ahead. 
And they who sleep may wake to weep 

For a hope forever dead. 



32 CLOVER BLOOM 

NO ROOM FOR CHRIST 

No room for the maiden-mother mild 
In the crowded inn. The holy Child 
Was born in a lowly stable-cave 
Which shelter to sheep and oxen gave. 
No room in life! In death no room! 
They laid Him in a borrowed tomb. 

No room for Christ in the busy mart, 
No room for Him in the crowded heart; 
Room for laughter, for mirth, and song, 
Time for the dance the whole night long, 
For stranger and friend a welcome free, 
But, alas! 0, Christ, no room for Thee! 

My heart is an unworthy place 
For heavenly guest. Redeeming grace 
And blood from Calvary alone 
Can cleanse and for my sins atone. 
Oh, hear my eager, earnest plea! 
Redeeming Love, abide with me! 



RECOMPENSE 

My heart sadly ached with your sorrow. 

And who from tears could desist. 
As they bore that little white coffin 

Out in the soft summer mist? 
But few words of comfort were spoken, — 

Words seem so empty and vain 
When the heart is well-nigh broken, 

And its every throb is a pain. 



CLOVER BLOOM 33 



I know that the days are lonely, 

And the nights are devoid of rest, 
When your groping arms clasp only 

The empty air to your breast; 
And the world with its petty sorrows 

And its joys seems a thing apart; 
But God in His loving kindness 

Will heal your broken heart. 



An angel of darkness, called Sorrow, 

Broods o'er the earth day by day, 
And if not to-day, then to-morrow, 

She will sadden some heart that was gay. 
The by-ways of sin are so many. 

So many temptations to meet; 
And stones are strewn in life's pathway 

To bruise the dear innocent feet. 



Take comfort, sorrowing mother, 

Who knows where your child might have trod? 
But sin and sorrow can never 

Touch her now, in the home of God. 
Though the gold of your hair may be silver, 

And faded your eyes' bright hue, 
I am sure your darling in heaven 

Will know and welcome you. 
And the years may be few or be many 

Before you are called to your rest. 
But at last you will have your dear baby. 

To lie like a dove on your breast. 



34 CLOVER BLOOM 

LURE OF THE WEST 

We're going to leave the old sod house, 

so long our home, my wife, 
That every sod and creeping vine are 

dear as things of life. 
We leave the timber and the creek, the 

fields, tilled o'er and o'er. 
The little orchard on the hill, your 

rosebush by the door. 
We leave our youth, and health, and 

strength, and all our peace of mind,- 
The gathering 'round the fire at night, — 

we leave it all behind. 

Out of the old house, Janie, our home 

that has grown so dear. 
The homely spot where you and I have 

toiled for many a year; 
'Twas here one fair September morn I 

brought you as a bride, 
'Twas here our little ones were born, and 

here that Milhe died. 
It was the saddest day we knew when 

she was called away. 
And many bitter tears we shed, the 

wound is fresh to-day. 
She was a fragile baby, and the world 

is hard and cold — 
Thank God our tender lamb, tonight, is 

safe within the fold ! 



CLOVER BLOOM 35 

Out of the old sod cabin — Forgive me dear! 

My wife, 
While I have you I'll not despair, 

I've still the best in life. 
Our little sons are growing tall — 

the West still lures me on, — 
We'll pack our goods and not forget 

your old melodeon. 
We'll take the wooden cradle, too, please 

God, some day you'll rock 
Your children's children in it, love, — and 

take the old brass clock. 

The prairie schooner's at the door 

with Sam and Bess ahead. 
The cushioned seat's for Mother, dear, 

beside the little bed. 
The rain? O, just a drop or two, look 

love! look in the west! 
A rainbow spanning all the sky, 

an omen of the best. 
"Seed-time and harvest shall not fail," 

We claim thy promise, Lord. 
On Bess! The schooner's off to sea 

with all we love on board. 



36 CLOVER BLOOM 

THANKSGIVING DAY 

The grand old day of all the year 
Has been all summer coming here. 
The buds burst forth in early spring, 
And eggs were cuddled 'neath the wing 
Where in our great Thanksgiving bird 
Was his allotted time immured. 
The tender blades of corn and wheat 
Came springing up the sun to greet, 
And he looked down with kindly eye 
And hail and wind-storms passed them by. 

June came, a presence fair and sweet, 
And laid her roses at our feet. 
Yellow and crimson, white and red, 
With lavish hand the earth she spread. 
Her minstrels, hidden in the leaves 
Of cherry, plum, and apple trees. 
Flung to the air a joyous strain 
After each gentle summer rain; 
For well they know, these feathered friends. 
Apples mature while rain descends. 
Strawberries, cherries so red and sweet, 
Luscious blackberries and golden wheat. 

Thus were we blessed in every way 

All through the summer, day by day, 

And as the winter time draws near, 

Give thanks! Give thanks with hearty cheer! 

Heap high the board, good things abound, 

While friends and kindred gather round. 



CLOVER BLOOM 37 

Step softly! Let us take a peek 

Into the pantry, for a week 

Grandma has stored her goodies here 

Against the day that's drawing near. 

Withdraw the curtain! See the row 

Of frosted cakes as white as snow! 

A mighty fruit cake, black and sweet. 

And rich enough for kings to eat; 

Rice pudding quaking in the mold. 

And pumpkin pies like molten gold; 

A cold boiled ham, all smoked and spiced, 

And only waiting to be sliced ; 

And here are pound cakes — no one makes 

Such pantry-joys as Grandma bakes! 

She'll beat the sponge up, feather-light, 
And set the biscuits over night, 
And in the early morning gray 
Get the fat turkey underway. 
Three juicy chickens, simmering nigh. 
Will come to table in a pie; 
A roast of beef will grace the board, 
And vegetables in a horde — 
But better than all else beside. 
Here Love will sit and Joy preside. 
Favored indeed are those who may 
Dine with Grandma Thanksgiving day. 

Then sing God's praises sweet and clear! 
The dear old day we love is here. 
In every heart let joy-bells ring, 
As to the Giver thanks we bring. 



38 CLOVER BLOOM 



YOUTH 



Her youth had long departed 

When first I saw her face, 
Framed in soft white hair, parted 

Beneath a frill of lace. 
Time, always ruthless-fingered. 

Had left his impress there. 
Where still a semblance lingered 

Of beauty once most rare. 

I loved her; and my pleasure 

In olden days and sweet 
Often found fullest measure 

While sitting at her feet, 
Where words of wisdom, falling 

From lips with age grown wise, 
Seemed my young spirit calling 

To nobler heights to rise. 

Cool were her hands and tender 

To soothe a brow distressed, 
Or skillful aid to render 

A little new-born guest. 
She held her children's children 

With joy upon her breast. 
And they grew tall and comely 

E'er she was called to rest. 



CLOVER BLOOM 39 

I sought the darkened chamber 

Where those whom Hfe she gave 
With gentle hands had placed her, 

And robed her for the grave. 
My tear-dimmed eyes beheld her — 

0, miracle of grace! 
Age, like a cast-off garment, 

Had fallen from her face! 

'Mid snowy lace and blossoms, 

In seeming sleep she smiled 
All peacefully and calmly 

As sleeps a little child 
Who knows not pain nor sorrow — 

I knew in very truth 
She'd found her loved and lost ones. 

And never-ending youth! 



FLOWERS OF FRIENDSHIP 

In Friendship's garden roses grow, 
And when friends new or old 

Their petals scatter in our path 
We prize them more than gold. 

"Pansies for thoughts" are blooming there 
Beside love's emblem sweet, 

And dainty blue for-get-me-nots 
For absent friends so meet. 

0, walk with me, this glad New Year, 
In ways true friendship knows. 

Accepting every morning, dear, 
A fragrant Friendship rose. 



40 CLOVER BLOOM 

IN THE TWILIGHT 

Side by side they've walked together 

Many years, 
In the sunshine and the shadow, 

Without fears. 
Simply trusting in their Guide, 
Whatsoever might betide — 

Smiles or tears. 

They have seen their hopes deceive them 

O'er and o'er; 
Seen their dearest treasures leave them — 

Gone before; 
But their love has only grown 
Through the sorrows they have known, 

More and more. 

They are resting in the twilight. 

Still and dim; 
Hand in hand they see the moonlight's 

Silver rim. 
Sweetly trusting through the night, 
Till the day-dawn's welcome light. 

Shall begin. 



CLOVER BLOOM 41 

THE GIRL WHO WORKS 

The girl who works, God bless her! 

I see her everywhere; 
She smiles from desk and counter, 

I meet her on the stair; 
She's with me in the street car. 

Her fair face all aglow. 
When frosty is the morning. 

And streets are filled with snow. 

The girl who works, God bless her! 

The world is unaware 
Of all that she has lifted 

From hearts bowed down with care. 
So helpful, brave and gladsome, — 

A charm about her lurks 
Her idle sisters may not claim. 

God bless the girl who works! 

The girl who works, God bless her! 

And save her from the snares 
And pitfalls wily ones have laid 

To trap her unawares. 
0, wisdom add to innocence 

When danger near her lurks, — 
The nation's weal depends on her. 

God bless the girl who works! 



42 CLOVER BLOOM 

LINES 

(TO A SISTER AT ST. MARY'S) 

Veiled Sister, thou of gentle mien, 
Of tender hands and face serene. 

And lovely as a pure white rose, 
I think of thee when nights are long 

And eyelids fail to close. 
I think of that dark night of dread 

And fear, 
When life held by a slender thread, 

And thou wert near 
To minister. The long night through 

Thou did'st abide. 
And seemed in very truth 

An angel at my side. 

Sister, for thy tender care 

I bless thee. One boon more, a prayer, 

1 crave. 0, sometimes think of me 
When telling o'er thy rosary. 



CLOVER BLOOM 48 

SOUTHERN ROSE 

Rose of the South, in this Northern clime 
You long for the lilies and jessamine; 
You sigh for the land where the holly grows 
At the Christmas season, O Southern rose. 

Dry your tears, fair rose of the South, 
Smiles were made for your pretty mouth. 
Warm hearts beat in this land of snows 
With love for you, dear Southern rose. 

Where friends are loyal and love is true 
'Tis always summer, and skies are blue. 
For you, dear lady, the season's cheer: 
A Merry Christmas, a glad New Year! 



CONSISTENCY 

I liked the "clinging vine" idea. 

And worked it overtime 
When I was young and slender. 

And my oak was near to twine. 
But now I am a suffragette, 

Not militant, you see. 
But just firm and persistent. 

As best becometh me. 
And yet, I am consistent, quite. 

For it has come to pass, 
I've grown more like a pumpkin 

Than a vine, Alack! Alas! 



44 CLOVER BLOOM 

HER LITTLE HAND 

I held with awe her little hand, 
So white, with rosy finger tips. 

Till like a frightened little bird. 

It trembled 'neath my eager lips. 

Time came her little hand sought mine, 
As homing pigeon seeks its nest; 

While wee ones claimed their tender care 
And aged lives they soothed and blessed. 

She was my all, yet, God forgive! 

I sometimes, blindly, failed to press 
Her little thin and toil-worn hand, 

In answering tenderness. 

One day it slipped from out my clasp. 

Oh, God alone can understand 
What I would give to feel once more 

The pressure of her little hand! 



ONLY A KISS 

A touch of the lips, a simple thing, 

A promise true, sealed with a ring, 

A bridal morn, a world of bliss 

Two souls have entered through a kiss. 

A touch of the lips, a simple thing, 
But life has lost its coloring. 

And hearts have broken, lacking this — 
A loved one's fond endearing kiss. 



CLOVER BLOOM 45 

A touch of the lips, a simple thing, 

But truth and right have taken wing. 

And honest lives have gone amiss, 
And bartered heaven for a kiss! 



MARGARITA 

Little Margarita 

Has a brow as white as snow; 
Her cheeks are like the roses 

That in our garden grow; 
Her teeth a string of milk-white pearls, 

Her coral lips between; 
Her eyes are bright as stars at night 

When not a cloud is seen. 

Little Margarita 

Has a heart as light and free 
As yonder silvery crested gull 

That flies far out to sea; 
And when the breezes softly blow 

She dons her little coat, 
And blithe, and warm, and safe from harm. 

Rides in her father's boat. 

Little Margarita, 

When the breakers loudly roar, 
And mad white-caps like huge snow-drifts 

Lie piled upon the shore 
Will leave her doll and childish play. 

And tremble with afright. 
Close to my breast, which knows no rest 

Until the boat's in sight. 



46 CLOVER BLOOM 

FOR CHRIST AND THE CHURCH 

What can we do for the Master in the 

quiet places of life, 
The corners where He has placed us, afar 

from the scenes of strife. 
Others go forth to battle with the 

Spirit's mighty sword, 
And the Word proclaiming the kingdom 

and salvation of the Lord. 



The enemy flees before them, and lo, in 

that land afar. 
Where all was heathen darkness, there 

shines the Morning Star! 
To the conquering heroes' honor, their 

praises aloud we sing. 
But wo ask from our little corner, 

"What can we do for the King?" 



We can be brave when afflictions 

come to us one and all; 
We can have faith in Our Father 

who noteth the sparrow's fall; 
We can be kind to each other, and 

welcome the stranger-guest. 
For some have entertained angels, all 

unawares, and been blessed. 



CLOVER BLOOM 47 

We can be silent when Wisdom speaks, 

and patient when storms arise; 
We can be gentle when things go wrong, 

though not very learned nor wise. 
All this we should do for the Master 

and the church we love and revere; 
They are only the fruits of the Spirit 

He expects from us year by year. 

There is never a day, believe me, so 

filled with the common cares. 
But brings its work for the Master, 

though it may be unawares. 
And never a day that leaves us with 

the setting of the sun. 
But leaves something we'd like to 

alter, or something we've left undone. 

The hasty words we uttered, the 

kindness we might have shown. 
The burden we might have lifted, 

and thereby lightened our own. 
Will we never learn life's great lesson, 

though we pass 'neath the chastening rod, 
That the little things in life's pathway 

are great in the sight of God. 



48 CLOVER BLOOM 

THE PRIMROSE PATH 

She danced along the Primrose path 

When life seemed but a song; 
And many men laughed with her then 

To while the hours along. 
And Time is fleet when dancing feet 

And wine and mirth hold sway. 
But Youth and Beauty are the toll 

He always takes away. 



What woman sows, that she must reap, 

And sure the aftermath 
Of cold neglect, of dire distress, 

Remorse, despair, and death. 
Of all the men who laughed with her 

In rosy hours by-gone 
No man came near her lonely bier 

To lay a flower thereon. 



Beware! my sister, O, beware! 

The gilded Primrose path ! 
In every rose there lurks, God knows. 

An asp whose sting is death! 



CLOVER BLOOM 49 

THE EMPTY NEST 

There was a time in years gone by, 
Wee ones played at my feet, while I 

Held one upon my knee. 
The house was filled all day with noise; 
The floor was scattered o'er with toys; 

My head ached wearily. 



There came a time my house was still; 
No mudstained foot prints on the sill — 

My longed for time of rest. 
My boys had climed youth's topmost stair; 
My girl, a woman tall and fair. 

Another's home now blessed. 



A last year's nest hangs on the bough; 
'Twas filled with singing birds, but now 

It empty is and bare; 
The buds and bees have come, but still 
Those birds come not again to fill 

With song the silent air. 



I gaze upon that empty nest, 

I know God's ways are always best, 

But I am sad and lone. 
I long so for life's vanished joys, 
My wee girl and my bonny boys — 

My nestlings that have flown. 



50 CLOVER BLOOM 

THE MINOR STRAIN 

Above the hum of happy bees 
Amid the bloom of apple trees; 
The merry twitter of the wren, 
Nest-building in the elm again; 
The low of cattle, well content, 
Kjiee-deep in clover; all the blent 
Sweet sounds of summer-time, I hear 
A moaning sigh, a-far, a-near, 
From human hearts who may not share 
The spring-time gladness everywhere. 

Upon the door-mat Tabbie lies 

With dreamy, half-shut, peaceful eyes. 

While two white kittens, fat and sleek. 

Play in and out at hide-and-seek. 

Among the lilac's purple spray 

A busy robin sits all day; 

While 'neath the eaves, in soft, warm nest, 

A brood of baby swallows rest. 

Fair scenes are these, yet they impart 
A weight of sadness to my heart. 
When little ones have pined and died 
Where homely comforts were denied. 
little hands that never grasp 
A sweet wild bloom in loving clasp ! 
little lives, aged without years 
By cold and hunger, toil and tears! 
My brother, can you hear their cry, 
And, unresponsive, pass it by? 



CLOVER BLOOM 51 

BOYS AND GIRLS OF YESTERDAY 

boys and girls of Yesterday! We never 

can forget 
The little school-house on the hill, — in 

dreams I see it yet, 
Half hidden in the pleasant shade 

where woods and grain-fields meet, 
Wild flowers growing 'neath the trees 

and berries in the wheat. 

Yet, truant feet were tempted oft forbidden 

paths to take 
A-down the hill and through the gates 

to Schaumburg's and the lake; 
But Teacher stands within the door, 

and clingle-angle-ling, 
She swings and swings the old brass 

bell, and calls the children in. 

Jennie and Will, Mary and Kate, 
Ellen and Griff, Maggie and Mate, 
Lewis and Mike, Charley and John, 
Clara and Joe, Shadrach and Tom, 
Sophia, Messhach, "Bago" and Frank, 
Octab and Leaser, David and Hank, 
Clarence and Lizzie, Richard — and more — 
So fast I cannot name them, crowd 

through the school-house door. 

boys and girls of Yesterday! Our heads 

are growing white, 
And some of us wear spectacles to 

aid our failing sight; 



52 CLOVER BLOOM 

But hearts are youthful, warm and 
true, and loyally akin 

As when we danced before the door, 
to Dan's old violin. 



Had I Aladdin's magic lamp I'd 

rub it with good will, 
And wish to meet you all again 

upon the school-house hill; 
Our favorite teacher at the door, and, 

clingle-angle-ling. 
He'd swing and swing the old brass 

bell and call the children in. 



Edith and George, Emily and Sid, 
Mary Jane, Ambrose, Walter and Tid, 
Milton, Ben, Holdridge, Jennie and Dan, 
Henry and Eben, Maggie Jane, Ann, 
Cora and Grant, Eva — and more — 
But not so many, alas, to-day, file 

through the school-house door. 



O, smiles and tears will mingle there, 

but tears predominate, 
When boys and girls of yesterday clasp 

hands o'er book and slate; 
For many seats are vacant now, and, 

while our eyes are wet. 
We speak of this one and of that, 

with tender fond regret. 



CLOVER BLOOM 63 

Two laughing blue-eyed girls we miss, — 
One brown-eyed child sedate, — 

When death these precious blossoms 

culled three homes were desolate. 



0, never Hope's star brighter beamed 

than on those brothers twain 
When Law and Medicine they chose 

renown and wealth to gain. 
Success was theirs; Fortune smiled; 

Ambition's fires were bright ;- 
While Youth was still their heritage 

they passed beyond our sight. 



We loved those gentle sisters three, 
who in life's blossom-time 

Were forced to break each tender tie 
and seek a fairer clime. 



And othei seats are vacant, too, — 

come let us smile and say 
They've only been promoted, while we 

linger for a day 
Or more till final grades become 

more adequate. 
And all will answer "present" to 

the roll-call soon or late. 



54 CLOVER BLOOM 

Dear boys and girls of Yesterday! 

space holds us far apart, 
But Love, the magic wireless, connects 

us heart with heart. 
Though new friends may be true friends, 

I've found it is a rule. 
No friends are like the old friends 

whom we knew and loved in school. 



DREAMS 

I walk with you, friend of long ago. 

In pleasant paths like those we used to know— 

I see your face, beloved and lost, 

And clasp your hand, long crumbled into dust. 

You have not changed, or so it seems. 

As hand in hand we walk in dreams. 

Your hand, your little helpful hand. 

Is unadorned with wedding band. 

While girlish, hopeful wonder lies 

In the soft azure of your eyes. 

Just as of old, your face so fair 

Is framed in wayward gold brown hair. 

You are not dead. My spirit free 

From bonds of flesh communes with thee. 

My waking eyes are blinded, dear; 

I may not see nor know that you are near 

Till my own welcome dreams, repay 

The ceaseless longing of the day. 



CLOVER BLOOM 55 

STAR OF BETHLEHEM 

Shine in the East radiant light from afar, 
Herald of happiness, Bethlehem star! 
Shine in the manger and shine on the tomb, 
Where thy rays lighten despondence and gloom. 
Shine in our lives every discord to bar, 
And lead thy true followers, Bethlehem star! 

Lead as thou led the three Wise Men of old, 
Laden with frankincense, myrrh and with gold. 
Violets, jassamine, lilies so sweet, 
And roses we bring to our King's sacred feet. 
Shine in thy glory no distance can mar, 
And lead us to Zion, beautiful star! 



PATIENCE 

It seems a little while ago 
She briskly labored to and fro, 
With willing hands and restless feet. 
Where loved ones claimed her service sweet. 
For all a cheery word and smile — 
A little while, a little while! 

She sits in wheeled chair to-day, 
A little figure, bent and gray. 
For her no longer toil and care, 
But weariness and pain to bear. 
With patient faith that asks no sign 
She trusts the Savior's love divine. 
And bravely bears her cross the while, 
With cheery word and pleasant smile. 



66 CLOVER BLOOM 



A SONG 



'Twas at the concert. By my side, 

White robed, bedecked with jewels rare, 

She sat — my love, my long-sought bride, 
As cold, ah me, as she was fair. 

"Home, Sweet Home," the diva sang. 

Her voice was like the song of birds; 
The notes through all my being rang; 

All the world in those three words. 

"Home, Sweet Home," I whispered low, 

"A simple cot or mansion fair. 
It would be ' Home, Sweet Home,' to know 
One's best beloved is always there." 

Her fair face flushed, O, glad surprise! 

Long had I loved, but vainly wooed. 
The tears stood in her starry eyes. 

And then I knew she understood. 



ROSE BEADS 

The roses I bring you, dearest, will not 
fade nor wither away; 

And their fragrance will last, like my 

love for you, forever and a day. 



CLOVER BLOOM 57 



FRIENDSHIP 



True friendship is so dear a thing 

I hold it in my heart 
Above the sordid dross of earth — 

A holy thing apart. 
In close communion, warm and sweet, 

No need my words to weigh; 
You keep the wheat, reject the chaff, 

And send me on my way 
Rejoicing in your sympathy. 

The warm clasp of your hand 
Sustains me, and, though oft misjudged, 

I know you understand. 

friend, bear with me while the sun 

Dips in the western sky; 
My faults condone, mistakes forgive, 

And virtues magnify. 
O, leave me not till sun-set's gold 

With rose of morning blends 
In that fair land of endless day. 

Where wait our long-lost friends. 



ROSES 

Pluck for your friend life's roses now, 
And place a garland on her brow. 
She will not heed the tears you weep, 
Nor words of love in death's calm sleep. 
0, speak them now! how vain to wait 
Until forever 'tis too late. 



58 CLOVER BLOOM 



SEED-TIME 



The farmer is sowing his grain to-day, 

All over our land so fair, 
He rids the seeds of all noxious weeds, 

And harrows his fields with care. 
He toils for his wife, a helpmate true. 

His children fair to see, — 
God bless the sower, and bless the seed. 

And rich may the harvest be! 

We, too, are sowing our seeds to-day. 

The mother, sister, wife; 
Are we sowing the seeds of kindly deeds, 

Or thistles and thorns of strife? 
If we smoothe life's field with gentle words. 

And grains of love plant we. 
The Father will smile upon the seed. 

And glad will the harvest be. 



EARLY FROST 

When dark hair silvers early, 
as everybody knows, 

It but enhances beauty 

like frost above a rose. 



CLOVER BLOOM 59 

JOURNEYING 

The little pilgrim started out 

Ere day began to break, 
To journey far, from star to star. 

The homeward trip to make. 
He knew the way so lately passed. 

And, smiling, seemed content to go. 
With bitter tears we said good-bye; 

Dear little son we loved you so! 

0, little pilgrim, safe at home, 

Where many mansions be. 
Blazed you the trail between the stars 

For Father and for me? 
Then set a light in window bright 

Where we can plainly see, 
On our journey far, from star to star. 

We soon shall take to thee. 



TWO LITTLE DRESSES 

Two little dresses my babies wore, 
I see them through falling tears. 

One is so white, I fondle to-night, 

The other one — yellowed with years. 

Which is the dearer? I cannot say. 

Which is the nearer? I do not know; 
The boy far away in the world today, 

Or the baby under the drifting snow? 

Dear little dresses my babies wore, 

I lay them away with tears. 
Falling, alike, on the robe snowy white 

And the little dress, yellowed with years. 



60 CLOVER BLOOM 

THE PRAIRIE ROAD 

We motored down a prairie road 

With goldenrod agleam, 
And passed a tiny little cot 

Close by a wooded stream. 
Old-fashioned flowers at the door, 

Pinks, marigold and phlox — 
And from the line wee dresses hung, 

And shirts and little socks. 

sister, in the tiny cot, 

I do not know your name; 

1 know the joy that fills your life, 

For mine has held the same. 
But little dresses, shirts and socks. 

Which I have loved for years. 
Are in a little treasure box, 

And only washed — with tears. 



LIFE 



A little cry, a little laugh, 

A little play — please God— 

A little toil, then folded hands 
And sleep beneath the sod. 



CLOVER BLOOM 61 

CLOVER BLOOM 

Down on the hillside playing, 

Mazie and Hal and Win 
And Bunnie, the dimpled baby, 

In clover up to his chin. 
In the cool of the early evening. 

They laugh and shout with glee, 
Happy the days of childhood. 

Precious the sight to see! 

The flowers have bloomed and faded, 

The birds have nested and gone. 
In a long unending cycle. 

As the years go hurrying on. 
Crimson and green the clover, 

As it was in days of yore, 
But the happy, laughing children. 

They come again no more. 

East wind, carry fond greetings. 

West wind, my love convey. 
Golden sun, you are setting 

Where some of my loved ones stay. 
Scattered afar, the children 

Who played in the twilight gloom; 
All but the dimpled baby — 

He sleeps 'neath the clover bloom. 



62 CLOVER BLOOM 

FORBID THEM NOT 

"Suffer the children to come unto me:" 
Such was the Savior's wise decree; 
Yet we restrain them oft, and say, 
"How can the children know the way? 
Wisdom of years the creeds demand; 
How can the little ones understand? 

Who teaches the worm its shroud to spin? 
Who shows the bird just how to begin 
To fashion its nest, the bee its sell? 
We call it instinct, this miracle. 

May not the same impulse move the child 

To seek his Savior while undefiled. 

Trusting His gentle hand to guide 

The little feet in ways untried? 

"Forbid them not," but bring them in 

To the Father's house, unsoiled with sin. 

The race is for little feet to run. 

For the child turns to God as flowers to the sun. 



ADELLA 

Blue are her eyes as Nebraska skies. 

Like cornsilk is her hair. 
And her little feet are light and fleet 

As bird^ that skim the air. 
Tiny her hands, yet iron bands 

Are not so strong by far, 
For our hearts they hold with grip untold, 

And willing slaves we are. 



CLOVER BLOOM 63 

PRAYER 

"Just to be good, and do Thy will," 
A childish prayer, while faith is still 
A child's strong faith undimmed by fear 
At mother's knee, while heaven is near. 
prayer of youth, with heart a- thrill! 
"Just to be good, and do Thy will." 

"Just to be good, and do Thy will" — 
The way is dark, night winds are chill, 
Forboding fears the heart invade. 
Pain-racking and weary, sore afraid ; 
Through trembling lips the soul cries still, 
"Just to be good, and do Thy will." 

"Just to be good, and do Thy will — " 
In pastures green, by waters still 
He leadeth me. Peace like a dove 
Broods over me with wings of love. 
Lord, through the ages lead me still, — 
"Just to be good, and do Thy will." 



64 CLOVER BLOOM 

THE AUTUMN BABY 

Little autumn blossom fair, 

You are so dear, sweet-heart! 

From face so sweet. 

To dimpled feet 

A miracle thou art! 



0, tell me, wee one in the nest. 

When all the rest are grown, 
Is mother's face and silvering hair 
Less dear because it's not so fair 
As brothers looked upon? 



Your answer just a heavenly smile, 
O little heart's delight! 

And a merry coo 

Assures me you 

Find everything is right. 



O, child of prayer and hopes fulfilled. 

Thy feet with gladness shod. 
Of our declining years the stay, 
(God willing) and for every day 
A precious gift from God ! 



CLOVER BLOOM ^ 65 



WHEN NEBRASKA WOMEN VOTE 

you needn't have a fear 
Womankind will quit her "sphere", 

Which causes some men worriment they say, 
For she'll always know that "wife" 
Is the dearest name in life. 

And coddle you in just the same old way. 



She will fry your batter cakes. 
Make your coffee, broil your steaks, 

On the very latest up-to-datest plan; 
And when you are very good, 
You'll get pie and angel food, 

So you have no cause to worry, Mr. Man. 



When the little stranger guest. 
Nestles to her gentle breast. 

As has been the fashion since the world began, 
You will not care one iota 
If the mother be a voter 

While you kneel in loving homage, happy man ! 



When Nebraska women vote, 
And the time is not remote 

If every true man aids the cherished plan, 
You will labor hand in hand 
For your state and native land. 

And the little ones God gives you, brother man. 



66 CLOVER BLOOM 

/ 

LITTLE THINGS 

It is the little things each day 

Which make life sad or sweet; 
The little joys, the little woes, 

The triumphs or defeat. 
A song-bird on the window sill, 

A clover-field abloom, 
The first wild rose you bring me, love,- 

How sweet its rare perfume! 



A peach tree crowned with rosy bloom, 

A circling pure white dove, 
A squirrel, chattering on a branch. 

These are the things to love! 
And, once when sailing on the sea. 

As long had been my wish, 
I saw — and thought of Mandelay — 

A school of flying fish ! 



To drive along a friendly road. 

Where sun-flowers nod and beam, 
And lunch beneath the cotton-woods 

That fringe a tiny stream; 
To watch the sunset's changing hues. 

To hear a night-bird trill, 
Then journey slowly homeward 

In the moonlight, pale and still; 



CLOVER BLOOM 67 

To read a little from the Book, 

To breathe a little prayer, 
To slumber calmly through the night 

In Love's protecting care; 
To sleep — 0, wondrous miracle — 

Sweet dreams the hours beguile. 
These are the blessed little things 

That make this life worth while. 



JOY 

'Tis sweet to clasp my mother's hand, 

Above all others blest, 
To look into her tender eyes, 

The wisest and the best; 
To hold imprisoned in my palm 

A baby's tiny feet, 
To bathe and robe the little form, — 

0, this is joy complete! 
And when the wee one is my own. 

Child of my child, so dear, 
0, then the bliss cannot be told 

Except in smile and tear. 



68 CLOVER BLOOM 

MOTHER 

O, Mother with the silvery hair, 

And wide clear eyes of gray, 
Your children find you wondrous fair. 

On this, your natal day. 
The years have lined your gentle face, 

0, dearest Mother mine. 
But every line has added grace 

To that sweet face of thine. 
Seventy years of cheerfulness 

In sunshine and in rain; 
Seventy years to serve and bless 

Your own in joy or pain; 
Seventy years of doing good — 

Your life an answered prayer! 
0, gentle queen of womanhood, 

Small wonder you are fair! 



CLOVER BLOOM 69 

AT THE GATE 

I dreamed that I had wandered far, 

And, wearied, could not find the way, 
Until the schoolhouse I espied, 

Where as a child I used to play. 
With joy the well-remembered path 

O'er wooded hill and glen I take. 
Till, as the sun is dipping low, 

I reach the little lake. 
Beloved spot! I may not pause. 

My feet press on, the hour is late; 
I see the dear old home at last. 

And Father standing at the gate. 

sisters, we must travel far 

An unknown road, come soon or late — 
But Home is at the journey's end — 

And Father waiting at the gate. 



70 CLOVER BLOOM 

WHITE RIBBON BOW 

We meet and greet thee wherever we go, 
A narrow white ribbon tied in a bow, 
Emblem of temperance, honor and truth, 
Help for the aged, and hope for the youth. 
Fraternal greetings on thee we bestow. 
Emblem of unity, little white bow. 

Shall we not praise thee in songs sweet and low, 

Symbol of purity, little white bow. 

When Shame and Poverty, Darkness and Dread, 

Like evil spirits before thee hath fled? 

Tears turn to laughter when wine rooms must go, 

And mothers thank God — and the little white bow. 

On missions of rescue pass to and fro 
Angels of mercy who wear the white bow. 
Shine in the darkness, thou symbol of light, 
Peace and sobriety, ribbon of white! 
Proudly we wear thee wherever we go. 
Emblem of happiness, little white bow. 



THE HIGHEST PRAISE 

Who speak about her seldom praise. 
The rare endowment of her mind, 

Nor hands well skilled in many ways. 
They simply say, "She is so kind." 



CLOVER BLOOM 71 

WILD FLOWERS 

I have seen Nebraska highways all aflame 
with goldenrod; 
The prairies blue with foxglove, tall and fair, 
And little blue-eyed violets just peeping 
from the sod, 
And roses, roses, roses everywhere! 



I have taken waterlilies from the lake's cool, 
tranquil breast; 
With trilliums my childish hands o'erflowed, 
Honeysuckles from the ledges gaily mingled 
with the rest, 
While daisies starred the pleasant country road. 



I have seen the snowflower, glowing, red as fire 
above the snow. 
And azaleas fringing every limpid stream; 
Meadows, blushing in their beauty, pink 
with shooting stars ablow. 
And ladyslippers, fair as poet's dream. 



But the flower I sometimes dream of, and 
which gave me most delight, 
I found deeply in the virgin forest set. 
'Twas the Indian pipe or ghost flower, 

leaf and bloom all waxen white. 
And my joy when I beheld it lingers yet. 



72 . CLOVER BLOOM 

INDIAN SUMMER 

The noon-tide sun is warm these autumn days, 

Dispelling all the mornin's chill; 
And soft and drowsy is the haze 

Let down like curtains from the hill. 
The leaves that flutter lightly to our feet 

Like golden butterflies appear. 
0, God is good, and life is very sweet 

In Indian Summer of the year! 



When we clasped hands in springtime, long ago. 

We recked not of the hardship and the toil 
Which we, as pioneers, must undergo 

To wrest a home from nature's virgin soil. 
The way was hard ; the summer's heat intense 

When drouth and burning winds combined 
At times, it seemed, to rudely drive us hence — 

We were too weary, sometimes, to be kind. 



The bins, while not to overflowing filled 

With fruit and ripened grains, hold frugal store. 
The farm, so long and patiently you tilled. 

To younger, stronger hands you now give o'er. 
Rest for your toil-worn hands! 0, sweeter their caress 

Then all the stored sweetness in the hives! 
Thank God ! Thank God ! Heart o' my heart, for this. 

The Indian Summer of our lives. 



CLOVER BLOOM 73 

SMILES ^ 

All nature smiles upon thee, heart of 

the golden West, 
The birds that carol thy praises, the 

flowers that kiss thy breast. 
Butterflies on the daisies, bee in each 

rosy lair. 
And fairfaced children laughing and 

playing everywhere. 



No longer the dusky hunter stalks on the 

verdant plains, 
Gone are the beasts he hunted, the coyote 

alone remains. 
And oft in the ghostly moonlight 

he howls afar, anear, 
A requium for the Red-man, the bison, 

and the deer. 



Bread for the millions beareth thy bosom 

broad and warm. 
Emerald thy seas of alfalfa, russet thy 

plains with corn. 
The sun is smiling above thee, with all 

his banners unfurled, — 
-Nebraska! Nebraska! we love thee! 

Golden heart of the world ! 



74 CLOVER BLOOM 

ONE PERFECT DAY 

There comes to all one perfect day 
When nature wears a rosy hue, 
And all things old seem strangely new 

And touched with golden ray. 



It came to you — a day long passed — 
He told the olden tale anew, 
With promise to be real and true 

As long as life should last. 

Or was it when your baby's eyes 

First met your own, and filled your breast 
With tender joy and sweet unrest 

And thoughts of paradise. 

Or, after years of parting pain 

You saw once more your mother's face; 

You felt her tender, fond embrace, 
And seemed a child again. 

No perfect day has come to cheer 

Your life, you say? If that be true 
Ah, then I almost envy you, 

For it is coming, dear! 



Clover Hill, 1914 




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